


The Other Side of Me

by Gray Shadows (the_afterlight)



Category: Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M, Gen, Memories, Nightmares, Post-Canon, ignores tracer of memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5436671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/pseuds/Gray%20Shadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even in the new world, memories remain. Four scenes that give us a glimpse into the new lives of our old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PreludeBlitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeBlitz/gifts).



Closing the door behind her, Claire took a deep breath, held it, let it out -- and Lightning stepped out of her foyer and into the kitchen. She dumped the old water out of the kettle, refilled it at the tap, and placed it on the stove. It was odd, she thought, how the unfamiliar movements had become ritual so quickly, helping to settle stresses, letting her relax, and allowing her to shed the masks she'd found herself wearing.

For three months, Lightning had been struggling with a dual existence: at home, Lightning Farron-- former L'Cie, ex-Guardian Corps, savior of humanity and vanquisher of Bhunivelze; to the outside world, Claire Farron, detective sergeant, although the small town in which she'd found herself was quiet enough that she'd seen no real action since arriving. This was a relief, on the one hand, and a welcome break from fighting constantly both for her own life and for the entire world, but the sudden transition from savior to quiet life was a difficult transition on the best of days.

Three months since she'd arrived in the new world, the only person she knew with any memory of where she'd come from. There was the occasional familiar face, someone she'd known long ago, or someone she'd saved in the last days of the old world, but none of them showed any recognition of her as Lightning, a name that, in this life, she'd never taken on. There had been no need; when she let herself be Claire, she could remember this life's parents, alive and well half a country away. Serah, too, was a part of this Claire's life, and though they'd spoken since Lightning had first opened her eyes in this new world, she'd never quite managed to take that last step and ask if Serah remembered who she'd been before.

The whistling kettle startled Lightning out of her thoughts, and she poured the boiling water into a mug, dropping in a teabag. A spoonful of honey, a splash of lemon, and she sat down at her kitchen table -- small, just two chairs, not that the second had seen any use even in Claire's memories -- and once again considered picking up the phone, dialling the most familiar number, and asking her sister if she remembered a second life.

She took one breath, deeply in, and deeply out, and then a second, and finally she reached over, quickly, before she could stop herself, and dialled her phone. It barely rang twice before she heard Serah's voice on the other end. "Claire! Hi! I didn't expect to hear from you!" There was a quick moment, and when Serah spoke again, Lightning could hear worry in it. "Is everything okay?"

"No, no, everything's fine." Lightning rolled out her shoulders, building up the confidence she needed for the next words. "I just had a question, actually... Maybe an odd one. Do you remember ever calling me 'Lightning'?"

On the other end, Lightning heard a quick scuffling sound, like Serah had dropped the phone but managed to catch it. "Uh, yes, I- _Lightning_?"

Relief made Lightning sag in her chair, and she felt like she wanted to laugh. "Yes, Serah. It's me. So you remember, too?"

"And Snow. Oh, Lightning, we need to -- should we find the others? They must remember, too, right?"

"One step at a time, I think," Lightning pointed out. "We need to figure out if we all remember. But... I think it's more likely, if you two do." She glanced over at her calendar, hanging on the wall beside the fridge. "... I have some vacation time saved up," she added. She wasn't entirely certain why she was nervous. This was Serah: they'd fought across dying worlds for each other. "Would you... Would it be all right if I came to visit?"

Serah was silent, just for a moment, on the other end of the line, and Lightning wondered if she'd misstepped with her sister once again, misread things somehow, until, voice filled with excitement, Serah replied, "Of _course_. Just -- let me know when. I... I've missed you, Lightning."

"I've missed you, too. I'll give you a call when I get my vacation arranged, all right? Probably take the train."

"We'll be waiting," Serah assured her. "Oh, Snow's just getting in, did you want to talk to him?"

"No, actually. I think..." Lightning couldn't help but grin to herself. "I think I'd like to surprise him, actually." And before she could bury the words, she said, "All my love, Serah."

Lightning was sure that if she could see Serah's face, Serah would be smiling. "Love you, too, sis."

* * *

Amid the noisy background of their usual pub, Snow gestured with his hands wide. "No, seriously, the dog was _this big_ -" 

"Pull the other one, Villiers."

Snow laughed and leaned back, stretching his arms across the top of the booth. "Okay, fine, sure, maybe it wasn't quite that big. But it was a big dog, I swear, and there I am, staring it down, just _waiting_ for it to lunge at me, right?"

Unable to help himself, Snow's 'audience' leaned in a little bit. "And, what, it just backed down?"

"I swear it laughed at me! Just, like, this stupid little doggy laugh, walked over, butted its head against my leg, and _walked away_. Have you ever heard of a dog _doing_ that?"

Sazh Katzroy snorted, shook his head, and picked up his beer. "The thing with you, Snow," he said, "is that you're not a liar. I just never know whether or not you're actually telling the truth, or if you just think you are."

"Hand to God," Snow said, raising his left hand; his sleeve fell down a bit, letting just a bit of a pointy-edged tattoo show on his forearm. "It all happened."

"Sure, of course it did. Y'know, next thing you're going to convince me that, what, that motorbike of yours is secretly... I don't know. A woman, or something like that?"

Snow blinked at that. That was oddly specific... He'd been wondering if Sazh remembered, too. "Well. Not _that_ motorbike. And it was two women. Saved my ass more than a few times, too." Snow paused for a moment. Surely, he thought, if Sazh _did_ remember, that would be enough to let him know that Snow did, too. Of course, he wondered, too, if Sazh's happy ending meant that he _didn't_ remember; having Dajh, raising him, all that trauma erased, that had to be better than remembering, right? Snow could take a little pain, for sure, having Sazh not remember, if it saved Sazh a larger one. "Don't tell Serah I said that? She doesn't like it when I... How did she put it? Oh, 'risk my life trying to be a hero when the only thing I need to do that is be myself.' Which seems kind of counterproductive, really, because that _is_ being myself, isn't it?"

"When have I _ever_ told Serah anything that comes out of that damnfool mouth of yours?"

"Well, there was-"

"Nope. Doesn't count. You were going to get yourself _killed_ , so that's totally best-friend prerogative to save your idiot life. Not that I know why I even bothered."

"Aww. I knew you loved me. But it can't be - what would we tell Serah?"

Sazh thwapped Snow upside the head.

"... Ow."

* * *

It was a small sound that awoke Noel, not that he was complaining; the nightmares might not come often, but when they did, it was difficult to wake up from them on his own. "Yeul?" he said, softly but not quite whispering, not awake enough to keep from mumbling. "Izzat you?"

"Yes, it's me, Noel," she replied, and Noel felt the bed dip where she sat back down onto it. "I'm sorry, I didn't think I would wake you."

"Why are you up?" he asked, sitting up and letting an arm slip around her waist. She leaned into his embrace, smiling up at him as she let her head rest on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Yeul nodded, her hair slipping forward and covering her eyes. "I suppose so," she assured him, one hand coming up and pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear. "Just another dream."

"A bad one, right? The usual?" Noel asked, and Yeul nodded. "Me, too. It's been long enough, I guess we were both overdue..." He glanced at the clock, red numbers glowing 4:07. "I'm not even sure it's worth trying to go back to sleep."

"I know that I won't." Yeul laughed a little, and pulled out of Noel's embrace. She slipped off the bed again and grabbed Noel's hand. "I have an idea," she said, tugging at him to follow. "Let's make cookies. We're awake anyway. We could make the ones with the candied petals on top."

Noel wasn't sure that baking cookies would help them any, but, hey, cookies. He was up for that at least. "And if you want to talk about it at all," he suggested lightly, "you know I'll listen. Talking it through might help, right? And... I could talk about mine." They'd both been resistant to the idea before, even when Noel himself had been the one to bring it up, but he was starting to think it might be the only way they'd ever get rid of the nightmares. It was, he thought, the only thing they hadn't tried.

Yeul smiled sadly at him over her shoulder, but nodded. "I... Yes, I think I will, this time," she admitted. 

As they reached their tiny kitchen, Noel pulled Yeul into a quick embrace. "And, hey, even if it doesn't help, at least we'll have cookies."

* * *

Hope hummed along as he typed, soft music playing from his top-of-the-line headphones. His report, the last paper he had due for the school year, was almost finished, which meant that he was roughly two hundred words from graduating high school.

And to think, he was only fourteen.

Ish.

Hope didn't know if anyone else remembered their previous lives, and wasn't sure at all why he did, but he was putting it to good use: several hundred years with the Academy (... even if some of those years were spent in suspended animation) meant that, with his original memories alongside those of his new life, he was more than educated enough to blaze through school and head to university as the new young prodigy, all set to 'invent' all the things he already knew how to make. It also mean that, if anyone else _did_ remember, they'd have a clear indication that he did, as well. It was a good way, he figured, to engineer a reunion of 'people who once saved the world. A lot.'

Revolutionising the weapons industry with effective, non-lethal ordinance? Definitely in the ten year plan. Manadrives becoming standard issue in hospitals around the world? Cure spells, artificial or otherwise, couldn't fix everything, but they'd make ER visits a hell of a lot faster -- and less painful.

But first, he mused, typing the last words and saving his document, he wanted his damn electroshock boomerang back. 

Pushing away from his desk, Hope sighed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "I really should give it a try," he told himself. "It... can't hurt, right?" The ceiling was, unfortunately, disinclined to answer, so after a long moment he turned back to his computer and began typing.

_Dear Ms. Farron,_ the new document began. _I don't know if you'll remember me, but if you do, I thought you might like to know what I've been up to..._


End file.
